Sigh

I picked up your email and cried the rest of the afternoon.

I am so sorry that you are so alone.

I thought about rushing to you but figured that there would be too much Angst. You don't need anymore on your plate right now.

Just know that I am thinking about you and am so sorry.

When will I ever feel better?

I don't know what is wrong with me.

I am sick again/still...

I don't know. I thought I was better. But here I am again... coughing up my lung.

And why?

Damned if I know. But I know that I am feeling depressed again. I am not entirely certain if it is because I am sick or I am sick because I am depressed. I just know there is a strong correlation in me between health and happiness.

Maybe it is the lack of sex that is making me sick. or love. or touch. That is certainly harder for me to calculate. I have had all three... sometimes together sometimes apart. They always made me feel better than I feel currently.

The question is how can you go out into the world and seek those things that you are missing when you have teenagers and preteens that you trying to set an example for. You certainly can't have a lover and try to explain to your child why she shouldn't have sex. Or explain that her father isn't part of a satisfying sex life for me. But then, how did I get to the point that I have children at this age and not sex, love, touch or respect.

Blah... time for more Niquil.

Maybe the answers will come in my fevered dreams.

Or at least soothe me with memories of desire glowing in your eyes as you gave me that little smile/smirk at still makes my heart catch when I think of it. I will dream of falling asleep in your arms and you laughing at me me because I chatter (in my sleep) and drool all night long.

I wish so much everything could be different and i could be in your arms again.

Ugh

Well, it has been a swell day today.

Asha is feigning illness again... and she is good at it... It turns out that she can wretch like a pro. Well, she has been practicing for a number of weeks... so I guess that accounts for that.

She has done this so much, that today I took her to the doctor. Luckily our regular pediatrician was not there as Asha would have died at the questions that had to be asked of her. Since she has been allegedly vomiting...(I hear wretching, but have not seen the vomit).

And what questions was my girl asked? Hmmm, well apparently when they sent me out of the room (for the first time, I might add) for her exam, she was asked if there was a possibility that she was pregnant. She said no.

Afterwards, the doctor asked me for permission to run a pregnancy test and though in my heart of hearts I believe that there was no cause for this, given that this is Asha and not Thera, I agreed. See, Asha is more likely to do something stupid without thinking ahead and then thinking that she can make it go away by ignoring it. Also she tends to try to get away with things... a bad combination under the circumstances.... The test was negative.

On the car ride home, Asha railed at being asked that question. "Why would they think that?" she asked me. I pointed out that the doctor has to ask as she does not know Asha. That there are other pregnant 13 year old girls in the city... That the doctor would have been remiss for NOT asking the question.

But I am now feeling infinitely sad that I had to even consider the possibility that my not quite 13 year old could be pregnant.

It makes me want to vomit.

Too much sadness

As we listened to news about Benazir Bhutto over the last couple of days, my general sadness over my broken heart, my mother-in-laws death, and now the death of a columnist that we loved and respected at the Chicago Tribune, Terry Armour.... PK has broken... his sadness is overwhelming him.

The problem is that he is looking for re-assurance.

And I have none to give.

For the last week, all that could enter my mind was one phrase.

"I used to love you"

and I did.

desperately. But it has been a long time...

Tonight though, in his sadness, he asked the question.

Do you still love me?

Do I?

I do.

Do I love him as I did when we were young and enthusiastic and untried by the ravages of the world. Before I was abandonned to his ambition, his career, his family, his friends. More sad affection and shared experience, a sad shadow of my past feelings.

Do I still love him the way that I did?

No.

That is gone.

Sadness

I have been reading over the last couple of weeks a blog called Atomic Tumor. The last couple of weeks the entries have been about the illness of his wife. She fell ill around Halloween and went downhill very quickly. For a fortnight AT has poured out his heart about his love for his wife and his fear of having to live without her.

Unfortunately the worst has come to pass. His beloved wife, Barbara Jamie, was declared brain dead on Friday.

This made me unspeakably sad. Sad for him. Sad for their children.

But ultimately the love he was expressing for her made me jealous.

I doubt that I would be mourned so deeply. Maybe by my children. Although at this point they are past the age of loving me so deeply. I am mostly a thorn in their side that someday they would be mourn.

The PK? He would be taken up with the details. Pissed at me for leaving him with the part of life that he can't deal with... the domestic side. But miss me? Mourn me? I doubt it.

And that is unspeakably sad.